


Just This

by intricatearticulation (chemma66)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Smut, lots of kisses, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7723855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemma66/pseuds/intricatearticulation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To say Mycroft Holmes' job is stressful would be a vast understatement. Luckily his boyfriend Greg Lestrade is there to help him relax after a hectic day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just This

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quiet, sultry Mystrade to soothe the nerves.
> 
>  
> 
> A million thanks to [myowneviltwin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/myowneviltwin/pseuds/myowneviltwin) for being an excellent beta and leaving lovely comments on my drafts. Bless :)

Mycroft stood in his darkened library, his jacket splayed neatly over the desk chair in the corner. He’d wanted to discard it onto the floor in frustration over the terrible day he had, but even a small bit of sense remained this evening. To say it had been trying would be a vast understatement; it seemed that everything that could’ve gone wrong inevitably _had_ , with most of their contingency plans failing as well.

  


Only one life had been lost, and many injured. The goal had been achieved, though sloppily and hastily. Mycroft's superiors grudgingly accepted the victory, but it had been clear throughout the levels that today’s mishaps could not be repeated; on Monday morning, there would be consequences.

  


But today, thankfully, was Friday. Even the British Government occasionally took weekends, especially when a funeral was planned for the coming Sunday and the entire office would benefit with time apart.

  


Thus Mycroft found himself home at a reasonable hour, yet in no form of good spirits. He shed his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his shirt to expose his long arms and pale wrists. He’d dismissed his small staff for the evening (just the cook came on weekends, and Amelia twice a week to clean, she wasn’t due until Sunday), so the house was quiet.

  


He’d gone straight to the library and poured himself a strong drink. Standing at the window, he was watching the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon when he heard the door downstairs unlock. There was a loud shuffle of bags and a coat being deposited, followed by a moment of silence to assess who might be home, and then the inevitable quick tread up the stairs.

  


Mycroft took another long sip of his drink, focusing on calming his fretful thoughts before he was joined by this new presence. The sky had turned pink and purple, smudged with gray clouds that were darkening into a deep blue. He hadn't bothered to switch on the lamp - or any lights in the room for that matter - so he knew that he struck an odd silhouette as the door opened quietly behind him.

  


The silence continued, though they were clearly aware of each other. The moment was calm and contemplating rather than tense, and Mycroft continued to enjoy the peace that was finally settling over him.

  


Soft footfalls sounded behind him, and soon warm hands were at his waist. Tentative, at first, as though asking if they were welcome just yet.

  


Mycroft, still holding his glass of scotch aloft in one hand, used the other to pull the arms closer around him. A warm, delightful shape plastered itself against his back, and he hummed in pleasure.

  


“Rough day, was it?” Greg asked, taking the hint to wrap his other arm around Mycroft. He rested his cheek against Mycroft’s shoulder, and they simply stood there together for a moment.

  


Mycroft merely hummed in reply, watching the sun make its final descent. His eyes had adjusted by this point, but the room was still quite dark. He didn’t wish to break the moment yet.

  


Mycroft drained that last sip of his drink, placing the glass on the side table conveniently within his arm's length. His other hand free, he moved it to rest alongside its partner and fully cradled himself in Greg’s embrace.

  


“Anything I can get you?” Greg asked, nuzzling into Mycroft’s soft shoulder.

  


“Just this, for now,” Mycroft answered. And it was entirely true; Greg’s presence alone always soothed Mycroft, drawing him from the tumult of his head, all of the problems and solutions swirling constantly there. Not only did Greg bring happiness, pleasure, contentment - but his way of life and thinking always worked to ground Mycroft in the _now_ , in this moment, where he could face the smaller issues and work his way to the grander ones.

  


“Easily done,” Greg murmured, tightening his grip for a moment and sighing into the fabric of Mycroft’s shirt.

  


He wasn’t sure how long they stood there together, but Mycroft eventually realized how dark it had become and how much his legs ached from standing still and upright for so long. He shifted a bit and Greg immediately perked up at the activity.

  


“Take me to bed,” Mycroft asked.

  


“Alright,” Greg replied, quiet and sure.

  


Mycroft turned in Greg’s embrace, not willing to break his hold.

  


“Hello,” Greg said with a warm smile, placing a soft kiss onto Mycroft’s waiting lips.

  


Mycroft didn’t smile in return, but his pleasure showed in his eyes nonetheless. Greg kissed him again, simply because he could.

  


“I’m glad you’re home,” Greg said, and he knew he shouldn’t ask why or how Mycroft was here earlier than expected, but also didn’t need to. At least not now, before Mycroft was ready or willing to explain.

  


“And I am glad you’re here,” Mycroft answered, bringing a hand up to caress Greg’s face. His hand rested there on Greg’s cheek, his thumb brushing across a bit of growing stubble. He knew the decision to ask Greg to move in had been difficult for both of them, but with their schedules it seemed like the simplest way to see each other more often. Mycroft delighted in moments like these, when he could look forward to coming home to Greg. Greg, he knew quite well, delighted in rough and messy morning sex. Mycroft didn’t mind that much, either, and had taken to setting his alarm a bit earlier in the morning to compensate. The adjustment had been good for both of them.

  


“Of course,” Greg answered honestly, turning briefly to press a kiss onto Mycroft’s palm.

  


He stepped away, his fingers running along Mycroft’s arms to keep them in his hold until he could grasp Mycroft’s hands instead; he pulled them along to get the pair of them moving, keeping one hand clasped as they traveled through the doorway and into the hall.

  


Once in the bedroom, Greg led Mycroft next to the bed and gestured for him to sit. When Mycroft began to undress, Greg stopped him.

  


“No,” Greg explained, “I want to do that. Hold on.”

  


Greg walked over to the lamp resting on their bedside table, turning it on while he removed his shoes and socks. He returned to Mycroft and knelt at his feet.

  


“Here we are,” Greg said, taking Mycroft’s leg in his hand, pulling his shoe off slowly and easily.

  


Next came his sock, which Greg peeled slowly, caressing Mycroft’s foot once it was bare. The same attention was paid to his other foot, and though the care was not at all necessary, Mycroft appreciated it. The same calm, hushed environment that had been found in the setting sun in the library had followed them here, kept warm and comforting by Greg’s presence. It was like a balm to Mycroft’s overactive mind, soothing the day’s troubles.

  


Once the shoes and socks were placed to the side of the bed, Greg rose to start on the buttons of Mycroft's waistcoat. Each one was carefully pulled through its hole, Mycroft’s arms lifted gently as he took the garment completely off. Once it was laid carefully over the chair in the corner, Greg turned back to the bed.

  


“Lie back?” He asked quietly, and Mycroft complied quickly.

  


Greg shucked off his own trousers and shirt quickly and climbed onto the bed next to Mycroft, the other man’s eyes following each of his movements. Mycroft loved Greg’s chest: the dark, coarse hair that covered his wonderfully impressive muscles was his favorite to run his fingers through. It would become delightfully sweaty during sex, and Mycroft loved to lay against Greg’s chest after, their breaths calming and the sweat cooling between them. In the mornings when Greg would press himself against Mycroft’s bare back, the hairs would tickle him; the sensation only added to his arousal.

  


Greg leaned over Mycroft’s supine form, placing another soft kiss against his lips. Mycroft returned the kiss, opening his mouth just slightly. Greg smiled, nibbling on Mycroft’s lower lip before moving away.

  


Greg began to undo each button on Mycroft’s shirt, following the reveal of skin with kisses down Mycroft’s chest. Mycroft had issues with his figure, which he was sure Greg knew about, but just as he delighted in Greg’s form, Greg delighted in his. It went against everything Mycroft had built in his mind up until he found Greg as a partner, and he was still working through it.

  


But tonight, a hush fell across his mind that he hadn’t felt in such a long time. The usual worries he had when revealing himself to Greg, even after all of these nights, barely even registered. Greg kept his movements slow and steady, and Mycroft felt himself simply allowing everything to happen, trusting everything he did.

  


Once Mycroft’s chest was completely bare, Greg lifted his shoulders and drew the shirt down each arm and out from under him. The belt was next, slipped from its loops and placed on the floor next to the folded shirt.

  


Mycroft hummed in pleasure, the slow undressing stoking his arousal in stages; he wasn’t fully hard yet, but could feel his entire body thrumming with desire and anticipation.

  


“All right?” Greg asked, coming back up to place lingering kissed along the side of Mycroft’s face.

  


Rather than answer with words, Mycroft simply closed his eyes and smiled, his head turning into the delicate affection. Greg continued his kisses, covering Mycroft’s face until he seemed satisfied.

  


Once he withdrew, Greg began to work the button of Mycroft’s trousers. The zip seemed too loud in the space they had created, but was dealt with quickly. Greg stood to slip the trousers off, gathering them and the shirt and belt from the floor before depositing all three onto the chair in the corner of the room.

  


Mycroft detested throwing his clothes carelessly onto the floor, with a few very rare exceptions. Tonight would have very likely been one of those evenings where his discarded clothes wouldn’t break the build-up between them, but it seemed Greg’s extra care extended into each and every crevice of Mycroft’s desires and needs. His attention to even this small, annoying detail soothed Mycroft’s frequently frayed nerves.

  


Mycroft, lying now just in his navy boxer briefs, revelled in the attention. Greg was here, seeing to his every whim, because he _wanted_ to be. It had taken some time for Mycroft to understand that Greg hadn’t had an ulterior motive once their one-night-stand had moved into another night, and then the next weekend. Multiple miscommunications and failed dates later, Mycroft was forced to accept that Greg apparently wanted to _date_ him, of all people. And after that, he honestly hadn’t been able to let Greg go. As much power as he seemed to have over Greg, Greg had over him.

  


Greg soon returned to Mycroft’s side, the bed dipping slightly as he leaned on his arm near Mycroft. Mycroft could feel his warm breath as he came closer to his face.

  


“Mmh, look at you. Gorgeous,” Greg rumbled, laying fully on his side so that he could pet Mycroft's front. His hand stroked slowly up and down Mycroft’s chest, just a soothing presence.

  


His hand drew back to just fingertips at times, almost tickling but enough pressure to still be comforting. Mycroft relaxed impossibly further, sinking into the bed beneath him. Greg placed his palm fully onto Mycroft's stomach, feeling his breath there.

  


Mycroft was half-hard, just resting in a slow thrum of arousal. Not in a hurry to get off, but not embarrassed of his state, either. Greg’s hand brushed over his cock, a slight pressure that elicited a small gasp from Mycroft. As soon as the pressure was gone, it moved down to Mycroft’s thighs, massaging and stroking there.

  


Greg made his way up and down Mycroft’s body like that for what felt like hours. Mycroft felt his erection grow, each pass of Greg’s hand making him wish it would stay there longer. Finally, Greg’s hand paused there, humming appreciatively at the full length of Mycroft cresting in the dark navy briefs. Greg’s hand cupped him, stroking his balls and drawing another gasp from Mycroft. It felt luxurious and excellent, his body bowing with pleasure but not straining in any way.

  


“C’mon, love, let’s move you further up the bed,” Greg murmured. He needn’t have even asked, as he did most of the work.

  


Mycroft barely opened his eyes as Greg shuffled his head toward the pillows, moving his body so his legs were settled across the bed rather than folded over and touching the floor. Mycroft felt as though he were floating by the point, and he heard Greg chuckle, no doubt at the blissful look on Mycroft’s face.

  


“Love it when I can get you like this,” Greg said, climbing atop Mycroft to straddle him.

  


He didn’t rest his full weight on Mycroft, just enough so he could lean over and press kisses to Mycroft’s face, chest, and arms. Greg ran his hands over every bit of skin he could see, while Mycroft sighed in pleasure.

  


“Gregory,” Mycroft said, barely a breath of sound in the quiet room.

  


“I’m here,” Greg said, leaning over once more to press a kiss to Mycroft’s lips.

  


They stayed like that, keeping the indulgent, sloppy kiss going until their tongues joined the fray. Greg captured Mycroft’s in one of his favorite moves, sucking on his tongue and near-growling in pleasure. Mycroft could feel Greg’s own erection pressing into his stomach at this point and knew their growing arousal would need to be satisfied soon.

  


As if he could read Mycroft’s mind - or perhaps the restless shifting that had begun in Mycroft’s hips - Greg moved down Mycroft’s body enough to pull his pants to his ankles and slip them fully off. Greg sat back for a moment to pull off his own before laying beside Mycroft, the both of them now completely naked.

  


Greg wrapped an arm around Mycroft, nudging his body sideways so that they would be spooning with Greg behind Mycroft. Mycroft moved easily with the direction, his bum resting snugly against Greg’s groin once they were situated. He shifted slightly, relishing the gasp it drew from Greg.

  


“Oh, yes,” Greg said, his hands continually petting along Mycroft’s side, his chest, down to his thigh.

  


Mycroft hitched his top leg up, just enough to allow Greg’s cock to slip between his cheeks with the next swivel of his hips. Mycroft gripped the bed sheet at the sensation and the answering thrust from Greg.

  


“Fuck,” Greg gasped, pulling Mycroft even more flush against him, “is that what you want, Mycroft? Yeah? What you need tonight?”

  


Mycroft knew that Greg had already guessed what he needed; he’d arranged them perfectly and probably had lube in reach, ready before Mycroft had even been fully undressed. But Mycroft didn’t need to worry about any of the specifics; the novelty of this moment, of what Greg had done for him this evening, that was what Mycroft needed. He gave in to each pleasurable sensation, following them were they led, knowing Greg would care of him and guide him through.

  


Mycroft nodded, not wishing to speak but confident that Greg could see his affirmative answer. He heard Greg’s hand shuffling for something behind them, followed closely after by the sound of a lube bottle being opened. A moment of silence and anticipation, and _finally_ a slick finger was brushing over his entrance.

  


Mycroft sighed in delight, his leg hitching up even higher, his hips pushing against the pressure that he so enjoyed. Greg moved his finger back and forth, relaxing and massaging. It went well beyond what was necessary to prepare Mycroft for the initial breach, but Greg was determined to take extra time with everything this evening. Mycroft drifted along, luxuriating in the movements and the pleasure taking over his body.

  


Finally, Greg’s finger pushed and slipped easily inside Mycroft; he moved all the way inside until he was past the second knuckle, immediately drawing out almost all of the way before repeating the motion. This continued, in and out, for some time. The finger was removed, more lube was added, and the slow push with the single finger continued. At one point, a thought occurred to Mycroft that he could stay exactly like this for the rest of his life and be perfectly content.

  


A slight twist was added to the slow withdrawal, and soon another finger was added. Mycroft’s breath hitched just barely, his leg twitching, but his body hardly tensed as the easy push and pull continued. Greg avoided his prostate for the most part, the small movements of his fingers adding pressure around the spot but never directly to it.

  


Mycroft felt kisses along his spine, felt the sweat from Greg’s brow as he rested his head between Mycroft’s shoulder blades. Mycroft knew he must be at least a bit uncomfortable at this point, focusing only on Mycroft and not even allowing a hand for himself or rutting against Mycroft, as Greg knew he was allowed to do. But honestly, it hadn’t occurred to Mycroft until that very moment, and he knew that’s exactly what Greg had intended. Greg was giving him a gift this evening, and Mycroft intended to absorb every single bit of it.

  


“Could do this to you for ages,” Greg said, and Mycroft realized he was _watching_ his fingers disappear within Mycroft. Not just watching, but seriously enjoying it.

  


It certainly wasn’t anything new, this particular act between them, but the idea that this was an indulgence and delight for Greg as well caused another wave of pleasure to settle over Mycroft like a blanket. He heard himself moan, somewhere that felt distant but also came from within; another finger was added as well as more lube. Strange, that Mycroft should feel so relaxed like this, but that was the power that Greg had over him.

  


Greg’s head came back up to hook over Mycroft’s shoulder, nuzzling there, as his fingers continued to rock in and out of Mycroft, slow and gentle.

  


“I can’t wait to be inside you,” Greg murmured, and Mycroft hummed in response, “fucking perfect, you are. So relaxed and pliant for me. It’s going to be incredible.”

  


“Gregory,” Mycroft whispered again, as though that was the only word he needed anymore.

  


Mycroft’s hand moved from the quilt before him to Greg’s hip, nudging him forward with the lightest touch. It was all of the strength that could be mustered at the moment, but Greg understood him easily.

  


“Yes,” Greg answered the unspoken question, removing his fingers to slick up his own cock.

  


Greg lined himself up carefully, giving his hand a quick wipe on the quilt behind him before resting it on Mycroft’s hip. He sank in slowly, letting out a groan as their bodies met each other fully. Mycroft sighed, his hand relaxing its meek grip but keeping its position across Greg’s body, another point of contact tethering them together.

  


They stayed motionless at first, savoring in the sensations; the fullness for Mycroft, the complete, enveloping heat for Greg. It was pure bliss, written on each of their faces.

  


It wasn’t clear who began moving first, but soon Greg was pushing in and out of Mycroft, as slow and easy as his fingers had been. Mycroft would shift with each thrust, searching for the perfect position. Each movement brought him closer, until a bit of leverage with his leg and Greg shifting just slightly upward brought Greg’s cock right against Mycroft’s prostate.

  


Mycroft cried out, a strangled half moan that still was nothing near a complete word.

  


“That’s it,” Greg said, repeating the exact motion over and over.

  


Mycroft rode out each thrust, the pull of his muscles, the clenching as Greg stimulated him from inside, the pressure from his own leg against his erection pushing into the quilt below him. It felt as though he were being fucked from every direction, all of his senses overwhelmed and soothed at the same time.

  


Greg increased his pace, and Mycroft registered somewhere that he was probably reaching his peak. Just as he was considering mustering up the brain power to touch himself, Greg reached around to grip his cock.

  


“Mycroft, oh,” Greg moaned, whether for his own impending climax or at the feel of Mycroft on his hand, Mycroft wasn’t sure.

  


Greg shifted them, moving Mycroft to lay more on his stomach but leaving room for Greg to continue stroking him. The change allowed Greg to move faster, to brush against Mycroft’s prostate with every thrust; the head of Mycroft’s cock brushed against the soft quilt below them as Greg’s hand moved up and down along it.

  


“Love,” Greg gasped, his hips putting more force behind each push, “I’m close.”

  


Mycroft just nodded, more of a violent shake of his head than anything. He tried to open his mouth to reply, but all that came out were sharp gasps that accompanied each thrust from Greg behind him.

  


Greg’s hand moved faster, adding more pressure, and Mycroft was completely gone. He silently shouted Greg’s name into the quilt below him, a shuddering, blinding climax overcoming him completely. The waves of pleasure that had been coalescing and building throughout the evening crested and doubled in force, pushing him somewhere unidentifiable. It was decadent and absolutely amazing.

  


The combined sensations of clenching muscles and the sound of Mycroft coming beneath him set Greg off soon after. He shook, working to hold himself above Mycroft as he spent completely inside him, his hips pushing forward again and again of their own volition. His head buzzed with intense ecstasy, the amazing orgasm washing through him from head to toe, erasing any other feeling completely.

  


As soon as Greg had his wits about him once more, he withdrew from Mycroft. The man was still beneath Greg, his eyes closed as they had been nearly the entire time. He was breathing steadily, a blissed-out expression still plastered onto his features. Greg smiled and brushed a light kiss to his temple, rising on shaky limbs to clean himself in the washroom.

  


He returned with a clean cloth for Mycroft, cleaning the come and lube from the pliant form on the bed before returning the cloth to the hamper. Greg flicked the light off before climbing back onto the bed and shifted the quilt from beneath Mycroft so he could lay it over both of them.

  


“Just give me a signal that you’re still with us,” Greg said, unable to keep the smile from his voice.

  


Mycroft stretched, still luxuriating in the pleasure in his system. He rolled onto his back and then his side, now facing Greg. Eyes still closed, his hands moved automatically to draw his body against Greg’s. He nuzzled his face there, planting a kiss on Greg’s chest before lying still once more.

  


“Good,” Greg said, wrapping his arms fully around Mycroft, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  


Mycroft might have hummed in response, or perhaps snored just slightly against Greg’s chest. Either way, Greg was smiling when he drifted off with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, my dears. 
> 
> Writing fic has been difficult as of late, but this was one I've been meaning to share for ages. Your comments and kudos remind me what it's all for :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> You can follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/HeadCumbernerd) or [tumblr](http://intricatearticulation.tumblr.com/), should you like.


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